THE "F" WORD........

No, no, no silly readers--before you go and get worked into a tizzy, gimme a chance to explain!! It is so not the real "F" word. The "F" word of which I am referring to is comprised of a mere three letters and refers most often to one's size. Got it? Now, a little side note--most of you know I rival a sailor when it comes to my lexicon of swear words, and in all honesty, I love the real "F" word. Clearly this is one of the posts my sweet girls will not be allowed to read until they're 60......but, I do have the utmost respect and admiration for the real "F" word. Seriously, I challenge you to find a word that has such a versatile purpose in our everyday vernacular. It's a total multi-purpose, multi-tasking, i'm a-workin' hard for my money kind of word--noun, verb, adjective--whatevs, dudes, it's all freaking there!!! And I love it and have to exert massive amounts of self-discipline now that my blobs are speaking creatures who repeat every.single.thing.i.say.

On to my point.....the "F" word. FAT. Fatfatfatfatfatfatfat. One of the most fricative and offensive words in the English language, and hence, (thank you Sara), a banned word in our household. The girls aren't even three yet, but I'm already worried, immensely, about the new "F" word of which I speak. Since the moment I found out, at 16 weeks, that at least one of the twinners was a girl, I have been stressing hard about this word and all the nastiness that it implies. And more so, how on earth I'm going to raise two girls who have a strong sense of self that is independent of their physical appearance. You see, I've been categorizing myself as fat since, oh, I don't know, the age of 9? This is not good when you are the mother of two daughters. Especially when you have no clue how to go about avoiding doing anything that would in any way, shape or form teach them that self-image is largely based on how pretty you are, or how itsy-bitsy your body is.

Kate and Julia aren't even 3 yet, almost, but not yet. They are obsessed with all things princess. Have I ever mentioned how much I f***ing hate Disney? I hated it before the girls, and now that I have them, I loathe it so much I could gag on my feelings. It is really cute (I grudgingly admit) to watch them dress up and pretend to be Ariel, and Belle, and all those other hooches. But it's cute because of the levels of creativity they display when ACTING like princesses. It's in the dialogue, peeps, the dia-freaking-logue.

However, Kate has now adopted a new defense mechanism when I tell her she needs to wear pants b/c it's 5000 degrees below zero. It goes something like this.....

".....but Mommy, but Mommy, I want to be a princess. I want to be beautiful, a beautiful, pretty princess. Princesses don't (said in demonic, devil-possessed voice) wear pants. (screaming) I WON'T BE PRETTY IF I DON'T WEAR A DRESS/SKIRT/TUTU."

Julia has been sleeping with her tutu and princess crown on every single night since we returned from our holiday travels.

Seriously? These are MY kids? I didn't even like playing with barbies when I was growing up so where on earth is this coming from?

It has to start now, right? The "training" of the girls so they don't grow up to be consumed by the sense of physical self-loathing that runs somewhat rampantly through my (of course, "my") side of the family. I know I can read books about it. And I have to be honest, that makes me feel a bit resentful. I should be smart enough to figure out what not to do just from my own experience. I'm a mom for Pete's sake, and mom's should innately know how to do this shit. Right? (***rhetorical question, guys). I. DON"T. KNOW.

And it worries me. This is the shit that keeps me up when I'm trying so desperately to fall asleep. One of those self-humbling things that makes me feel like I'm an actress and I'm so not equipped, or worthy, to be in charge of these two perfect and wild and gorgeously delicious girls. I don't even know where to start.

They both are already asking me if they look pretty when they put on their lusted-after dresses/skirts/girly crap. I repeatedly tell them that they look pretty ALL.THE.TIME. They're already smarter than me (takes a REAL woman to admit that, no?)......they respond with "yeah, but Mommy, but Mommy, I look realllllllly pretty because I'm wearing a..........."

I am in over my head.

And I wouldn't trade it for the world. (but i might almost consider it for a tummy tuck? KIDDING!)

If I were a happy camper, I'd be reveling in the fact that it's Friday. Clearly I'm not that chipper as "thank God it's Friday" is quite possibly the last thing I feel like saying right now. What a morning it's been. I'm tempted to launch into a tirade filled with expletives, but am chanting to myself "this is a G-rated blog, this is a G-rated blog." Know that I'm silently screaming over and over and over in my head.

The girls cannot, should not, and must not be left alone. At all. Not even for one flippin' minute. I'm the dumb-ass who should know better, but for some reason I keep giving them the benefit of the doubt. After they got into the toothpaste and hand soap this morning (which is like, I don't know, the tenth time this week), they went back in the bathroom and got into my makeup bag. You would think me not being a makeup kind of girl would mean that this wasn't such a big deal. Not so. Kate colored her face with my eye liner. Julia was sucking on my big, bushy, blush brush. GROSS.

After cleaning them up, I finally smartened up and locked the bathroom door (thank god it's easy to pick that lock or I'd be screwed). I made the girls come down to the basement with me. Silly me, I thought I could put a show on for them and they'd be placated while I continued my never-ending, online search for kids' bedding. About five minutes into Mickey Mouse, they told me they had to go upstairs to get some books. Harmless, I thought. Foolish, foolish Mommy ignored the fact that it was eerily silent upstairs. Ten whopping minutes later, I decided to go check things out. Um, yeah. Both girls were standing on chairs they had pulled up to the kitchen sink. Julia had pulled out every single Lysol wipe from the container and was lining them up between the sink and the counter. Kate had found a new way to entertain herself with the dish soap--holding it upside down over the sink and squeezing the shit out of it. I estimate we lost roughly half of the bottle. I asked them (barely holding back tears) what on earth they thought they were doing. Kate demanded that I go back to the basement while glaring at me, and Julia smiled as she informed me they were cleaning. What in the hell is this???? Where are they coming up with this stuff? They have so many toys we barely have room to live and it's more fun to play with dishsoap and eyeliner???? Are you kidding me?

My house is a mess, I have zero energy to clean, and I'm toying around with the idea of breaking my leg. A month in a quiet hospital room sounds more blissful and rejuvenating than a week at the spa.

God help me.

A Happy (albeit, belated) New Year! Wow, so here it is 2009 and I have yet to blog until today. January's almost over and I'm still the world's biggest procrastinator. The holidays were fantabulous (minus a run of the stomach flu), and the girls were so into Christmas. Our time in Ohio was all too short, but we're hoping to rework Scott's vacay days so we can have a bigger chunk of time at home during the winter festivities in '09.

So, where to start? We had 3 Christmases altogether--one in Jersey, one with Mimi and Papa and the Leonard side of the fam, and one with Grandma & Grandpa/Grizz side of the family. The girls were spoiled rotten, which seems to be the norm.....they were sooooo into all things Christmas. Even something as simple as driving from point A to point B got them all amped up as they squealed over the various holiday decorations people had on display (and of course, the tackier the better). We were lucky enough to take them to THE neighborhood in Strongsville (where Scott grew up), where it's pretty much a requirement that you have to go all out and then some w/your decorations. The girls LOVED it and watching them really get into the holiday spirit was priceless. They especially loved spending time with their cousins, Livvy and Jack, and watching the four kids play together was probably my favorite part of the trip.

We're back to the daily grind--preschool has resumed (whew for me), gymnastics is over, and the yearly plans for vacations, activities and all that jazz has begun. In less than 3 months, the girls will be celebrating their third birthday--holy toledo!! That means that we have to make the switch to twin beds (bye bye naptime) and start preparing for the inevitable and much-dreaded task of potty-training. I am seriously contemplating hiring somebody to do it for me.

Random bits I don't want to forget.......

*Julia has been sleeping with her tiara ("princess crown") ever since we returned from our holiday travels. I don't get how that can possibly be comfy, but she refuses to part with the damn thing (even wore it to church this weekend, much to the dismay of my in-laws).

*One of the the girls' favorite expressions (esp. when they're trying to convince me to let them have something I don't particularly want them to have, i.e.--an uber-sugary snack) is to say, "that's my FAVORITE (insert desired object)". It's quite amusing.

*Kate is following in my footsteps and has designated pink as her favorite color. Good taste. Mommy should be proud. Mommy is annoyed. Kate only wants to wear pink clothes. Her love for pink runs so deep that she asked Ray, the Home Depot dude handling our window replacement project, to make sure the new window in her room is pink.

*Julia has a new Oscar-worthy routine. Not sure where she got this, but one of her newest gigs is to say in her tiny, sweet, voice "I'm really tired." Doesn't sound that funny when you read it. I guarantee deep belly laughs if you are lucky enough to hear her do it--between her facial expression and her exaggerated articulation/enunciaton of her award-winning phrase, well, it's too damn funny. She's also figured out that if Mommy's crabby, Mommy will lighten up with the simple utterance of "I'm really tired."

*Some evil outside force has taught our precious angels how to say "shut up." Scott and I both almost collectively shit ourselves when Kate first told Daddy to shut up. This is definitely worse than them telling us to go away. This is the toddler version of the middle finger. I hate it.

*Both girls love coloring, especially with markers. I don't know how our parents managed without washable markers. Kate always manages to color her arms when I'm not looking. Aunt Chris gave them an easel for Christmas and I'm wondering when it's going to sink in that the easel is NOT a climbing apparatus.

*Kate is STILL the world's pickiest eater. Julia is STILL the world's greatest eater. I made falafel the other day and Julia loved it. She definitely gets that from Scott. Kate eats so much mac-n-cheese (the dirty, processed, fake-cheese, nutritionally void kind) that I worry she will turn into a gelatinous yellow pile of mush. Trying to get her to eat new foods is impossible and leads to level-10 tantrums.

*Every time the girls take a bath, they fight over who gets the scissors. Not to worry, these are playdoh scissors--since I refuse to let them play with playdoh (mean mommy, yep) they take them in the tub. They use them to cut their bunny loofah's "skips". Don't ask me what skips are. I have yet to get an answer that is comprehensible.

Me: Girls, please, what are skips?

K&J: Uh, Mommy, bunny loofah has skips.

Me: Can you show me the skips?

Julia: No. I cutting them.

Kate: (holding up bunny loofah) Dere Mommy, dose are skips.

Me: Can you point to them with your finger?

K&J......throw loofahs at my face. There you go.

*The girls, when not trying to physically maim one another, LOVE being sisters. Sure, they fight, and yes, it makes me want to run for the hills, but watching them play together rocks. They are so creative and funny and I love the games they make up. My heart still melts every time they hold hands and dance while singing "Skip to My Lou."

So.......I'm sure I'm forgetting a ton, but I gots to go. I smell poopy diapers and both girls are denying they've dumped. Nice.